Someone slipping on a patch of ice inside an old airlock should not need a detective to investigate. Yet, here she was, about to interview Service Technician Fourth Class Wayland Hartness, victim of a mild concussion, about frozen dampness.

Miku entered the room and was assaulted by the antiseptic vapors. The man on the bed was of medium build, in his late forties, she guessed. Close cropped hair. Minguard tattoo on his neck. Same as hers.

"Mister Hartness?"

"Jack," he said. "Who are you?"

"I'm detective O'Connor. Jack? How do you get Jack from Wayland?"

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